Every once in a while I chat/email with someone and the “click” is there immediately. I wish I could produce the formula that equates to this click, but I don’t really know. It was like that with R, too, except that I had the pleasure of knowing a little about him before he even emailed me. Yet still, R took my bait and we chatted and we never shut up. It was kinda like that with this mysterious J (that’s all he called himself). He emailed me to pay a few compliments about the blog and there was just something there, something in his words. What he said, what he didn’t say, how he said it and his “voice”.

We both recognized the click and the too-easy banter and the immediate intellectual attraction as being dangerous. Dangerous with the chance of addictive.

And so….at the end of that day full of flying emails, we said goodbye. He gave in briefly once more via my chat box but that was it. Today, nearly 4 months later, I tried to contact him only to find that the email address he’d been using was now closed.

Maybe he was just a ghost?

A figment of my imagination?

An entity capable of communicating through the wires and currents but not of being real?

The other day I found that Fleshbot, previous home of the traffic-boosting Sex Blog Round-Up, is getting bloggers to agree to letting them re-post content. Specifically, YOU write a post and it’s published on your blog. Fleshbot comes along and says “oh! I just lurve it! You gets lots of wunnerful traffic if you let me re-post the whole thing on Fleshbot!”. Your link is at the end of the post; Fleshbot is getting free content that fills up their site (they paid the people who did the Sex Blog Round-Ups so it’s a big $$ saver to them); you get empty traffic for a few days.

Sure, Fleshbot traffic was nice for the numbers, but I never received a comment from a FB reader.

We were discussing this all yesterday at the Sex Blogger Co-Op and Jake (such a smart young man) made these wonderful points:

– It’s my content, it belongs on my site, that’s just what feels natural. – It goes against the ethos of linking to blogs so that readers can discover new blogs to subscribe to. I’m not going to get any new readers or RSS subscribers by having my content lifted and put on someone else’s site. – If it’s on their site, it’s surrounded by their adverts and making FB money, not making little me money from the ads on my site.

We’re bloggers – we’re attention whores to some degree, every one of us. So yeah some are going to be blinded by the compliments and promises of traffic but just keep in mind that in the end….Fleshbot wins, not you.

The House always wins.

(pssst: some happy news where YOU win! Edenfantasys put the holy grail sex toy, The Pure Wand, on sale for Thursday only at $75, free shipping! Or if you always wanted a Pure Plug they’re on sale too!)

Off I went last week to my local Lane Bryant Outlet store to replace one of the newer “really uplifting” bras I purchased last summer. After being pretty sure that the bra I picked up was the same one that died recently, I grabbed one and threw it on my pile.

By the time I got around to trying it on, I’m standing there in just panties, trying to get this damn thing hooked – the security tag was making it difficult. It wasn’t until it was hooked that I found out exactly why. And holy hell did it HURT!

See that white cone-shaped thing there? That dug into my back. The flat side is what is supposed to be against your skin. But come on now, LB….isn’t there a less obtrusive place to put these damn things?!?

Related Posts:

We-Vibe 4 Review I've been reviewing the We-Vibe ever since it first came out, so it's been interesting…

First let me explain my take on the “typical” brain of feminine vs masculine. I do realize that just by saying that I’ve already ruffled some feathers. The saying “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” DOE S have its valid points.

I’m equally a logical and emotional person. It’s hell, lemme tell ya. I need to totally *understand* something, I need to know why. Why, why, why. I’m like a 2 year old. I cannot just do something “because”. If I at least know why I’m doing it and what comes next then I’m much better able to do my part. But I also act and react very emotionally, I’m very much an empath. Anyways, back to the logic. I have fibromyalgia which is a very misunderstood disease (but they do know that brain chemicals are either affected or a partial cause and I believe that the main chemicals affected are serotonin and dopamine) and I have a dopamine deficiency. ADD, ADHD, whatever label you want to put on it. When you run down the symptoms, I’m a textbook case. But I have other oddities that make me hard to diagnose. So in the course of trying to figure out what is wrong with me, I’ve done a lot of research. Learning what others like me are like. Forming my own theories that may or may not be a grand revelation to the science community at large.

Even if you don’t have a “mental disorder”, I believe that everyone’s brain hormones/chemicals are not all at perfectly balanced middle-of-the-road levels. Everyone has a skew, and that forms your personality. It’s when the skew is too severe that one is then diagnosed with depression, anxiety, bi-polar, ADD, etc. So my outlook is kinda like…..a horoscope. I am most compatible with other people that have a similar chemical skew/imbalance. If their dopamine is lower, I’ll get along with them. ( I hope this explanation makes sense to you all, lol).

They already know that biological men and women use their brains differently. But that’s what they can see and measure. What they haven’t been able to measure yet are the levels of the brain hormones. So I’m not saying here that my thoughts on the chemical differences pertain to *biological* male/female roles, obviously, but the self-identifying masculine/feminine roles. The typical feminine brain skews a little lower on serotonin. The typical masculine brain skews a little lower on dopamine. Disclaimer: I’m not saying that this is fact, I am saying that in all my logical thoughts, this has to be true. One big reasoning is that many of my little ADD-quirks/issues/problems….to some degree are all complaints that wives generally have about their husbands. Like I’m more likely to forget birthdays and anniversaries. I lose track of time. That whole domestic drive to clean the house and run errands when you’d really rather sit on yer butt? Yeah I don’t have that and you’ll find me sitting on my ass till there’s no clean undies and we’re outta milk. When a female asks me if I notice anything different, I’m going to be staring blankly at her just like most men would.

I hope I didn’t lose you – this topic of brain chemistry and why I, without fail, get along the best with people with similar chemistry levels as my own is all seriously fascinating to me. Even if the knowledge doesn’t do me any good with treatment I still like understanding it all as best as possible.

Anyways. Contradictions, contrasts, puzzle pieces.

I’m the girl in full makeup who’s fixing your computer and babbling in geek-speak.

I’m the girl wearing perfume who’s hanging with the guys, playing MMORPG games and being just as competitive as them.

I’m the girl in the group of people who will admonish the man with a “Don’t be such a pig!” to his pervy comment all the while silently agreeing and staring at that chicks ass right along with him.

I’m the girl in sexy clothes and kitten heels who would be happily tagging along to a car show, admiring the details and work on big, loud muscle car or a sleek, expensive sports car.

In my mind I objectify women as I ogle them but I don’t let on outloud, for that’s not proper. I know it’s not right but it happens anyway. I’m terrible at being domestic even when it has to be done. I didn’t inherit the gene that makes my mind think “We’re having company! I better dust!” like my mother and her mother before her. I drive too fast, I swear too much and I don’t remember your birth date. I could spend just as much money at Sephora as I could at Newegg.com. I am competitive beyond compare and fuck you if you beat me.

And when I read about other bisexual or bi-curious women talking about how softly they would kiss a woman, how the sex would be sensual and spiritual and *cue sound of abrupt record-scratching to signify a halt* – I think “why??” I want to kiss and be kissed like I would kiss a man. Kissing men, kissing women, it’s not a different activity for me it’s kissing a person and I like it passionate. Not feathery kitten kisses. I want to have hot, sweaty, kinda-rough passionate sex with a woman just as I would with a man.

But yet I want to be swept off of my feet in romance. I want the grand gestures. I want the Dom type of guy sometimes, to a degree. I have my days of wanting to be pampered and beautiful and wanted and loved. You don’t have to hold the door for me unless my hands are full, but I’d appreciate it if you compliment how I look, even though I may blush and dip my head.

I am a contradiction in flesh and blood and sometimes I just don’t know which way to go.

(This post originally appeared over at Edencafe. It appears here now in hopes it will bring more discussion.)

There are two sides to me. The Lilly you see online and the L that most others see in reality (and how I feel in reality). Sometimes there is a bleeding of the edges betwixt the two worlds and I am gaining comfort in that happening more. This isn’t to say that Lilly is a contrived persona. In fact, not at all. Lilly is what L truly is under the surface. Lilly is the no-holds-barred version of L. There are most definitely pixels shared between the two. A Venn diagram, if you will. The better I know someone and the more comfortable I am with them, the more Lilly and L meld together as almost one.

I don’t mind people staring at Lilly because it’s all virtual and I can control it. But in the stark lights of reality, L feels scrutinized. L says “Don’t look at me”. Lilly says “Oh hey, its naked time? Wait for me!”.

I think that the Lilly you see on Twitter is really more of a meld than most other places. Granted, a lot of L isn’t shared there but it’s much more of an equality of the two. Would L have the cohones to say to a just-introduced guy “Well HELL-o cute boy!!”? Nope. And will Lilly let her Eeyore side out online? As little as fucking possible, thank you. I think the matter at hand is this: how much more Lilly does L need to absorb into her public persona? For I know damn well she could stand more than she’s got.

Ya know why?

Because L needs a goddamn date, that’s why. L needs to move onwards and upwards and find a guy or girl who’s somewhere in between side dish and main course.

And Lilly is way more date-able. No, not because she’s got a bit of teh slut, but because she’s confident and happy-but-snarky (usually, unless she’s pissed off because SOME men think her every sentence must be met with “witty” innuendo-laden replies). But I have news for ya boys: L/Lilly doesn’t fuck on the first date anymore. Sorry, day late and fifty dollars short.

When I posted on my blog a few months ago about my flaws, it was the first time that readers really saw more of L. And I was scared to put that out there! Sometimes I feel like this anonymous blogging / dual-personality shit is fraudulent. I mean, it’s not – not one bit of Lilly the personality/person is a lie. But I know that L isn’t very shiny and sparkly a lot of the time anymore and that can be a bit of a bummer. I’ve met a few people offline that knew me as Lilly for awhile and I do believe they ended up disappointed with L. I can’t say as I blame them either. Lilly is who I would be all the time if I were surrounded by friends/family/co-workers just like those of you that I know online; Lilly is who I would be without my neurosis.

So what is this? A crisis of identity? Multiple personalities disorder? Split brain? Split pea soup? One thing I do know is that I’m learning about myself in ways that I didn’t expect when I started the blog. I am more self-aware than ever before. Some days it’s a painful awareness but most days it’s a good thing. I can’t tell you the number of times I want to open my mouth and say “Holy shit! I just did XYZ!!!” and it of course related to this blog or e[lust] – and I have to clam up. For the first time I have money now to do a few things, because of my sites. Can I tell anybody? Nope. Can I tell anybody how rockin’ my site design was? Nope. None of my family even knows that I have gone to NYC *at all*, and I’ve gone 3 times since starting this blog. It was very hard for me in the weeks leading up to my November NYC trip to spend time with bloggy friends and attend the NYC Sex Bloggers Calendar Party to have to constantly lie about exactly why I was going to NYC (to the few people I told). I tested the waters once, and when someone asked me what all I was going to do there I listed off a few things and one of them was “see a Burlesque show”.

Silence.

Confusion.

“……what’s ‘burlesque’???”

I tried a few vanilla, simple explanations and when the look of confusion just expounded with each word out of my mouth I finally gave up.

“Nevermind. I’m going to see a show and it’s nowhere near Broadway.”

And that, my friends, was the last time Lilly opened her mouth in L’s world.

You know how sometimes you don’t realize something as being true until it comes falling out of your mouth with no premeditated thought? Writing is like that, for me. It can be how I work shit out. So I handed in a few posts to Edencafe recently and they decided to run with my little theme and post them all on the same day. It’s Dangerous Lilly Day!

Baby steps this week, one day for lunch I chose a green salad with a half cup of tuna salad on top, and a cup of light yogurt. Two months ago would have found me having the reuben. Was the tunasalad the best choice, when you consider the mayo? Probably not but I didn’t use dressing, and I just can’t eat naked greens. I’m sorry, I can’t make drastic changes and expect it to stick. I bought myself another gelato pint last night at the store. Combine a somewhat-humorous threat by my hub and my own attempt at convictions and I ate only 1/4 of the container.

Then this morning in my email I see a pingback hit on an old post that was basically food porn, where I waxed romantic about Fettucine Alfredo and perhaps grilled cream cheese sandwiches, featuring photos of gorgeous decadent food that I love. Food that I don’t eat every day or even every week. But oh horrors of horrors it’s a FATTY talking about her love of good food. I can’t do that, it’s “disgusting” or so this man claim. I will not link to his post here, I did on Twitter but I won’t give him traffic from this site. He linked to that post and he (without asking of course) re-posted yesterday’s HNT photo.

“She is a blogger who talks about her sex life and how she loves being a fat ass. I will admit that some of her stuff is pretty sexy…until you see her”. He goes on to show that photo and says how the rest of me “must be a mess” and invited his readers to try and find a photo of my ass as proof, he claims to have spent 5 minutes searching but apparently couldn’t stomach any more. Funny, isn’t it, that my statcounter shows he spent a lot more than 5 minutes saw a lot of photos. He didn’t *read* anything recent though because he says that “Being fat isn’t healthy. It isn’t a lifestyle choice. It is just laziness.” I’m listed as his Freak of the Day because I both aroused him and disgusted him. I feel bad for him, kinda. I bet he feels guilty when he jerks off 3 times a day, too, and isn’t dating. Most of his site is based on making himself feel better by finding other people to rip apart.

Anyways.

These posts at Edencafe? I’m kinda proud of these but oh be ready for a little conflict in inner voices ;) I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts on these, either here or there.

I’m saying I care. About me. About not scaring those who love me and worry about my health. About not wanting to be in such pain and if taking better care of myself health-wise might have an affect on the pain, then it’s damn well time to step up and do it. I have to.

Fat, glorious fat. It gives flavor, it gives divine texture. Food that you enjoy with every fiber of your being, food that makes you involuntarily say “Yummmmm” as you eat. Food being referred to as “better than sex”. Foodgasm, my favorite word. Food, glorious food. It makes mouths happy, it makes *brains* happy because of the endorphin rush or whatever. At least to me and those I call favorite people!

And then I got really angry when I started thinking about diet foods. From the post “Foods, Force feminized!”:

Put on your thinking caps here, close your eyes and imagine all the yogurt commercials you’ve seen recently. Got it? Now then – where are the men? Oh look, there’s a man – wait, no, not really. He’s eavesdropping on his wife’s ambiguous phone conversation about yogurt-porn and all these gorgoeous flavors she’s eaten lately. Key Lime Pie! Apple Turnovers! And, I’m losing weight! Where’s hubby? Like the dipshit that media plays him up to be, he’s digging through the fridge looking for these yummy desserts and oh teehee he’s like totally not getting it that it’s really the yogurt right in front of him that she’s talking about! Oh, the hilarity. Silly man. Yogurt is for girls!

Edit: You can’t change mean people, you can’t make them see the light.

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